


Me, Liquor, and God

by hktk



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 04:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8148524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hktk/pseuds/hktk
Summary: V is ill.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's the Moon Cactus in particular.](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CtR1I4XUMAEo1Dq.jpg:large)  
>  this was a request in the beginning but I grew to love it too

“Jumin...” V wrung his hands in his lap, thinking about his friend who sat across from him. “That already exists, you know.” 

“What? Impossible,” Jumin snorted, taking a sip of the wine in his hand. 

Their food had yet to arrive. At a fancy restaurant, one they often came to, the waiters and waitresses had known that they’d like to sit near the window, known exactly what they wanted to eat, known just how old the wine should be. But still, it was taking longer than usual to get their food, and so V and Jumin idly chatted about Jumin’s new proposed cat business. 

Jumin held the wine glass up, the sun glinting off of the rim. “And if it does, I’ll simply make it better.” 

V laughed lightly, folding his hands together. “How do you make wine for cats even better than it already is?” 

“You pick only the finest vineyards, and you let the wine age for years and years before even  _ thinking _ about putting it on the market,” Jumin explained, setting his glass on the table as a waiter with a tray walked up to them. They continued talking as he set their food in front of them. 

“This seems kind of like a long-term investment,” observed V, picking up the wrong fork for the situation, if only because he knew it would annoy Jumin enough to point it out. He didn’t, this time, too enraptured in his cat business, so V gently set the fork down and picked up the correct one. 

“Of course it is,” Jumin said. “Any sort of cat business has to be long-term if you want it to go well.” 

“Have you talked to Jaehee about this? What did she have to say?” V took a bite of his steak after he was finished asking. 

Jumin nodded. “Yes. She agrees that it’s a good idea.” 

V choked on his food, then swallowed. “Really? I’ve never heard of that before... I would’ve thought she’d be opposed to it.” 

“No, no, she’s very much opposed to it. But I believe the fact it’s long-term means she won’t have to work on it as hard all at once.” 

V took another bite as Jumin did as well. “I see, I see,” he breathed, giving a soft smile. “I look forward to it. Perhaps I’ll get a cat, too, just to treat them as nicely as you treat Elizabeth 3rd.” 

Jumin leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Really? They could be playmates.” Then he straightened again. “Elizabeth has been getting lonely lately. It would be good for her to meet another cat.” 

“Lonely?” It was a little shocking; after all, Jumin was constantly fawning over that cat to the point where V had gotten a little worried for him once or twice. “Why do you suppose that is?” 

“I can’t say for sure... Perhaps she misses Ayeong.” 

Oh, that name. It sent a pang of both guilt and something else to V’s heart. “Your girlfriend?” 

“Yes. Elizabeth 3rd has taken quite a liking to her,” Jumin explained casually, waving a hand. “Ayeong keeps bringing her toys and everything. I have never seen someone so enchanted by cats as I have been.” He smiled a faint smile, something so familiar these last few months. 

V was happy for his friend, truly happy, but he couldn’t understand why it physically hurt every now and then, every time his girlfriend was mentioned, every time V had called to ask to have lunch, only to be turned away because Jumin had a date that night and he absolutely had to have everything perfect. It was like his friend was slowly drifting away from him, and he really,  _ really _ didn’t want that to happen. 

“Soon you’ll be planning a wedding,” V found himself saying, eyes casted downwards, focused on his food. “Say you’ll let me be your best man.” 

Jumin sputtered, flustered at the mere idea it seemed. “A wedding? I don’t—I don’t think that we’re quite at that stage. Though I hope to make her mine one day...” 

V stood suddenly, chair creaking, sliding gracefully otherwise against the marble floor. “Please excuse me,” he said, a little too coldly. “I have to use the restroom.” He really, actually wasn’t feeling very well—it had been happening all day, this sickness, and he really should’ve just stayed home in bed today. His stomach hurt, his chest hurt, his shoulders hurt, everything hurt, by God it did, and he didn’t know why. 

Jumin nodded, visibly confused at the sudden outburst, and V took one step before the pain got too much. His hand shot out to clutch at the tablecloth, while his arm wrapped around his stomach. “I’m fine,” he tried saying, but it came out garbled, vision swimming in and out as he stared down at the ground, way too white. 

He spit something up; it trickled down his chin and onto the ground, and the floor was stained—stained red, and he suddenly realized that this wasn’t going to go away with just a trip to the restroom. He heard Jumin standing up, and V stayed standing long enough for Jumin to close the length between them, holding him up as best as he could. 

V’s legs gave way, and he collapsed against Jumin, coughing and drooling the crimson substance. Something lodged itself in his throat, trying to come up, and with the amount of pain he was in, V was almost sure it was his throat. He breathed hard, breathed  _ really _ hard, chest heaving up and down, as he tried to dislodge whatever it was in his throat. 

A single petal came up. It floated in between him and Jumin until it landed on the floor. White, a dark white, almost a grey, with outlines of red, though as soon as it landed, the blood stained that as well. 

Oh, that’s right, V thought hazily. It was blood. This realization brought even more blood up, more petals, and he could hear Jumin shouting something, but he sounded so, so far away. V leaned his head against Jumin’s shoulder, dying the black suit dark and dirty. 

Jumin never let go, even as V slipped into blackness, cold, cold darkness, and let go of him. 

 

***

 

“... illness borne from...” 

It wasn’t a voice he recognized. Eyes too heavy to open, he laid there, feeling the oxygen mask upon his face. Was he having trouble breathing? He wasn’t anymore, but the cool air calmed him down. Not that he could do much right now anyway. 

Where was he? 

The hospital? 

V tried really hard to figure out where he was. He could feel the stiff sheets resting lightly on top of him, too thin to really keep away the coldness; he could feel the mask, of course, and although he wanted to pull it away, he didn’t have the strength to do so; he could feel the foreign sensation of something—a needle?—sticking in his arm, the weird feeling that something was dripping into him, though he couldn’t tell what. 

So, he was at the hospital. 

The memories of what had happened came swarming back into his mind, attacking him deviously, and his chest hurt again. They were having such a pleasant lunch, Jumin and him, that he hadn’t wanted it to end, even if he did have those weird feelings towards the end. 

The man he didn’t recognize was still talking. V tried to listen in over the beep of the monitor. 

“... could be fatal. It’s terminal if left untreated.” 

“Terminal? Please operate then!” 

Oh, that was Jumin. Did Jumin come then? V wanted to apologize about his suit, apologize that he had to see him that way. 

“Without his permission...” V wavered in and out of it, only catching certain words. “... could die. ... unique case, with the nature of... ... caused by unrequited love...” 

V wanted to reach out to Jumin, but only that man was talking. He wanted to hear Jumin’s voice. It would calm him down. It would calm him. But that man, that man... 

V fell asleep again, unable to stay awake for long. 

 

***

 

His eyes opened slowly. The first thing he noticed was that the oxygen mask had been taken away, but the soft beeps in the room persisted. They peaked, beeping a little fast, as he brought a hand to his face. His chest hurt really badly, felt like it would burst open at any moment. But that wouldn’t happen. He sort of hoped it did so that the pain would stop. 

V ran the hand through his hair. He was all sweaty, hot all over, and his face was flushed. Did he have a fever on top of this or was it simply anxiety? The monitor continued accelerating, especially as he sat up. 

He wanted to leave. 

The window showed that it was dark outside. How long had he been in here? Dozens upon dozens of questions flowed through his mind, and he couldn’t focus on any single one of them at once. Where did Jumin go? Did Jumin hate him now? What about that man? What was that man talking about? What had happened after he passed out? The questions made him dizzy, and he tried to ignore all of them rather than lingering. 

V had a headache. He closed his eyes again, shut tightly to see if that would get rid of the pain in his head, grasping at his forehead, pressing hard against his temple. Neither of those things worked, only made things worse. So he dropped his hands to the sheets. 

He wanted to leave. 

Very bad. 

He looked around the room. All the lights were off—was it really that late? V noticed that behind the monitors was a long pole, hooks at the top holding two bags that combined into one singular tube, which he traced with his eyes. The IV jutted out of his skin, foreign and weird, ugly, just like himself, but that was a thought for another day. 

He wondered idly what it was, what they were giving him. Is this why he felt so sleepy? He fought the fatigue off, chest heaving as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood, shakily, holding onto the pole of the drip bags. 

He wanted to leave.

He had to leave.

He had to see Jumin, he had to visit Rika’s grave, he had to leave, he had to leave. 

That’s when something rose in chest again, traveled through his throat like bile, slime, all those ugly substances, and blood bubbled out of his mouth. He keeled over, losing all the little strength he had just had, falling to his knees. Hands splayed on the ground in front of him, he coughed, and he coughed, and he coughed, and the blood fell from him without a care in the world. 

His chest hurt so badly. 

V coughed up multiple petals, too, and for a moment, he thought he was hallucinating them. But he picked one up between coughing fits, examining it, scrutinizing it. Some were red, not dyed, naturally, while others were white, though they looked all to be from the same bud. They each had small pinpricks at the top, and the pain he got on his finger from touching one felt miniscule to the pain in his chest. 

Some petals, curiously, had faded red in them, too, otherwise white. This wasn’t blood—it was just how the petals had been made. 

Why, oh why, was he coughing up blood and petals? 

The door opened, then, before he could get any further in his thoughts, and the light blinded him. He must look so pathetic, he thought, on his hands and knees with a puddle of blood beneath him, surrounded by flower petals. The nurse who had opened the door noticed what was going on, rushing in and grabbing at him gently. 

“What are you doing?!” she demanded, though her voice was gentle. “It’s two thirty in the morning... Were you trying to leave?” She sounded as if she had been through this multiple times before. 

“I’m sorry.” All he could do was apologize, like he usually did. “I’m sorry.” 

“Here, I’ll help you up,” she said sweetly, hoisting him up to a standing position. He crawled into the bed on his own, sad to see the blood staining the stark white sheets. A wild contrast, and he got dizzy, lying back down, rubbing his forehead. 

“Are you feeling alright? Sorry, that was a stupid question, but how are you feeling now?” 

“My chest...is about to burst,” he answered. “It hurts so bad. Why am I like this? I’m sorry...” 

“Please don’t apologize.” V noticed she was an older woman, older than him, with a kind expression. He couldn’t read the nametag, so he’d just have to ask tomorrow. She turned on the lamp on the bedside table before leaving briefly. Returning, she held out a pill and a small cup of water. “Please take this. It’ll settle your stomach and you’ll be able to sleep.” 

He reached out with a tentative hand, which he knew was shaking, and took the pill, laying it beneath his tongue before drinking the water, handing the cup back. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re troubled.” 

“No, no, this is my job.” Her smile was warm, made him feel warm. “Besides, I like taking care of people. I only hope that you can get some sleep tonight. The doctor will be in tomorrow to explain everything.” 

“Yes... Thank y...” His strength gave out, and he was enveloped in darkness once again. 

 

***

 

The light hit his eyelids, and it woke him up. Opening his eyes, the sun shone brightly in from the window, the same woman from last night having opened the curtains. He blinked tiredly at her, wishing he could sleep more. 

Looking down at himself, the sheets and his clothes had been changed, all while he was sleeping. Peculiar, as he didn’t remember any of it at all. Was the drug that she gave him that potent? 

His chest didn’t hurt that much anymore. V was thankful for that drug, then. 

The woman turned around, moving closer to him. Her eyes had wrinkles near them, especially when she smiled at him that way. “Good morning. Or, rather, afternoon. It’s time to wake up. The doctor’s doing rounds,” she explained. 

He nodded, and weakly said, “Your name?” 

“Ah.” She pointed at the nametag on her chest. “My name is Jihae. It’s nice to meet you, Jihyun.” 

“Thank you for last night. I’m sorry.” 

“Did you already forget what I said?” She laughed quietly, airy, nicely. She reminded V of his mom when he had grown older and moved out. “There’s no need to apologize.” 

The door burst open, and they both looked over. It wasn’t the doctor but rather—Jumin stood there, in the doorway, out of breath, hair every which way, as if he had rushed here as soon as possible without any care in the world. 

“Jihyun!” he exclaimed, after he had caught his breath a little. “Jihyun...” His suit wasn’t dirty or sullied, V noticed, and for that he was thankful. He still had to apologize for that after all. 

Jumin crossed the room with a strong, authoritative stride, hands grasping the bed railings, so hard that his knuckles went white. V smiled up at his friend, though the other did not return it, furrowing his brows instead. 

“God, you look so pale... Are you feeling alright?” Jumin asked, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he’d like the answer or not. 

Jihyun’s smile dropped, and he brought a hand to his chest. “I’m fine, Jumin. I don’t...know exactly what happened, but I’m sure it won’t happen again. Please don’t worry about me—”

“Don’t say that bullshit, Jihyun!” 

The stern voice, the yelling, shocked V. His eyes traveled back to Jumin, worry creasing his face. Jihyun felt guilty, absolutely, positively guilty, and he had to get better if only for his friend. 

“Wh...What do you mean?” 

“I mean, please don’t say you’re fine! You nearly died in my arms, Jihyun. I was... I was...” He couldn’t complete the sentence, and his eyes turned to steel. “Are you getting the operation?” 

“Operation?” V recalled the man—the doctor, probably—mentioning something about operations, too, or had it been Jumin? The whole scene was a haze in his mind. “What operation?” 

“The operation to remove—”

“Mr. Han, right?” Jihae interrupted. Although she wore a kind and sincere smile, it didn’t reach her eyes. “He hasn’t been briefed yet. More importantly, visiting hours aren’t until later. How did you get in?” 

“No, please, he can stay,” Jihyun desperately said. 

“Even when the doctor comes in?” 

V nodded. He thought, especially when the doctor came in. If whatever was going on with him was enough to upset Jumin  _ this _ much, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it. 

As if on cue, the doctor knocked on the door frame before entering, clipboard in hand. “Jihyun Kim... My, my, what an interesting case you are.” 

Jumin opened his mouth to say something but bit his tongue; he didn’t move away from the bed, at least, and for that, V was thankful. 

“My name is Dr. Minho Park,” the man introduced, and V realized this man was the man that was talking with Jumin yesterday. “It’s nice to meet you, though... I’m not so sure you’re happy to see me.” 

“Cut the jokes,” Jumin said, unable to hold it back. V reached out to lay his hand on top of his, shaking slightly. Jumin looked down at him, let out a pent up sigh, and slackened his grip on the side rails, running one of them through his hair anxiously. 

“Anyway,” continued Park, “you have a very, very rare illness, caused by something so obscure that you’ll never guess. What’s even rarer is the manifestation of yours.

“The name of the illness is ‘Hanahaki Disease’. It was discovered in Japan roughly fourteen years ago, and we’ve progressed to being able to cure it through operation, though not without side effects. The name roughly translates to ‘flower vomit’, but that’s less poetic, isn’t it?” 

Park glanced at his clipboard, flipping through a few pages. “What I’m about to say is going to be strange, but I want you to believe me and not freak out... There is a cactus growing inside of you.”

V blinked a few times. “What?” he breathed. He looked between the doctor and Jumin, and neither were reacting like it was a joke. Was he being serious? For real? “How is that possible?” 

“We haven’t worked out the logistics of it yet. But rest assured, the pain in your chest is from the cactus,” Park continued. “The scans show that it started to grow on your heart, as is traditional, but it’s also damaging your other organs. No one has ever seen this before.” 

It had to be a joke. The doctor was just joking around, wasn’t he?! There was no way this could be real. 

“I don’t understand.” 

“Neither do we,” Park said, and Jumin gripped the side rails tightly again. “That’s why you’re so special and unique.” 

“Why...? Why though?” Jihyun was growing more and more anxious, clutching at his shirt on his chest, sitting up fully. V looked up at Jumin, who looked away. 

Park sighed, perhaps out of sympathy. “It’s supposedly caused by unrequited love.” What? “The love builds up and the body materializes a plant like substance in order to stop it. Eventually, this substance goes on and becomes an actual, physical plant. Your plant, for instance, strongly resembles a Moon Cactus.

“The thing is, though... I don’t think it’s quite as simple as that,” the doctor went on, lowering his clipboard to his side. “Because cacti may not flower for a very long time, we can say that you’ve had this in your system for quite awhile.” 

“But—!” V winced, pain starting up in his chest again. “Rika loved me! It wasn’t unrequited!” 

“Jihyun...” Jumin whispered, grasping his hand. 

“Rika?” Jihae wondered. “Is that your girlfriend?” 

“She...” Pained expression on his face, V paused, taking a shaky breath. “She  _ was _ my fiancée.”

Jihae’s expression shifted and she looked down at the ground. “... I’m sorry.” 

“She passed away in February,” Jumin explained, not wanting V to have to say the words. “We were both very close to her, but as V—sorry, Jihyun said, he was much closer.” 

“That’s correct,” Jihyun breathed, holding his head in his hands. “But... we were going to get married... She reciprocated... So I don’t...” 

Dr. Park nodded. “Perhaps that’s why this is blooming now,” he said, taking notes down on the clipboard, in the file. “Your body is trying to cope and grieve with the loss of a loved one.” He pursed his lips. 

“You mentioned the operation earlier,” Jumin said, suddenly, staring the much shorter doctor down. “Please explain it.” 

“Oh, right. It’s entirely possible to cure it through operating, as I said. But... there are complications.” 

“Complications?” V echoed, peeking through his fingers at the doctor. “What are they?” He was curious, admittedly, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t want to hear what the complications were. 

“Well... It seems that the plant also represents all of your emotions, not just love. If we were to remove the plant, we would also be removing all of your feelings.” 

“That’s terrible...” muttered Jihae under her breath. 

V was tempted to say, that’s fine! please do it! but did he really want all of his emotions to go away? Did he really want to live like an emotionless robot for the rest of his life? Did he really want his love for Rika to go away? Did he really... really want that? 

Or did he want to die? 

“So you’re going to do it, right?” Jumin persevered. “You’re going to take the operation, right?” He sounded...frightened. 

“... No,” V finally said. “I’m not.” 

“What?! Are you mad?” 

“Jumin! Please think about it... Please think of how I feel. How I’d feel  _ after _ the operation. We wouldn’t even...” He hesitated, and his chest hurt  _ really _ bad now, so much so that he started wheezing a little, monitor signaling his accelerating heart rate. “... wouldn’t even be able to be friends. Do you really want that?” 

“... No, I don’t.” Jumin relaxed his shoulders, finally letting go of the side rails. 

“I couldn’t stand not being friends with you, so please, please, think of how I feel,” V begged, looking at his friend with teary eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Jumin said, fussing with the hem of his dress shirt sleeve. He crumpled it, tugged at it. “I should’ve realized. Please don’t look at me like that.” 

V averted his gaze, burying his face in his hands once more, and Jihae reached out, placing a gentle, caring hand on his shoulder. His shoulder shook, and the monitor went crazy, and tears spilled over his fingers. 

“I’d... We’d,” Dr. Park said, interrupting the sobbing, “like to...study you. Of course, we need your full permission to do so. You are free to decline.” 

V hesitated, looked back at Jumin, then asked: “Is there a chance you might find a way to help without removing it?” 

“... Yes. It is a possibility.” 

“Then yes. Of course. I will help. Other people are affected by this too, aren’t they? So I want to help them too. Please. Just help me. Please.” He was sobbing again, hard, and he covered his mouth, blood spilling over his fingers more than the tears spilled over his cheeks. 

 

***

 

_ A few months later... _

 

“Ow.” 

“Are you alright?” Jumin’s voice was gentle, called from the inside of the house. In a few moments, he poked his head out from the kitchen, and he soon came onto the balcony altogether. 

“Oh.” V smiled at him, holding his hand in his other one, close to his chest. “I still haven’t gotten the hang of this yet,” he said a little sheepishly, glancing down towards the row of Moon Cacti. 

He had been growing them for awhile now, picked up and imported from various places, as many as he could find and afford. Since the hospital paid him because he was a test subject, practically, he could afford a lot. Jumin also had bought him some, though he had said he found it a little weird that V had wanted to grow the same plant that was growing inside of him. 

“I want to cultivate my love,” he had said at the time. “It must be a sign from God.” 

Jumin had snorted, but he bought him a fancy pot. 

Currently, Jumin was visiting, having brought over some food—simple, commoner takeout, but it was the best he could do, and he knew that V wouldn’t mind in the least. His main goal was to check up on V, who seemed lighter, thinner, paler. 

And V knew why. The slurry of medicines they had him on made him that way, but at least it kept the petals from creeping up his throat, at least it made the cactus inside of him smaller, at least it let him keep feeling. He was weaker, now, too, and often couldn’t do a lot of things that he used to be able to do. 

Because he couldn’t travel the world anymore, he satisfied himself by growing the cacti and taking photos of them instead. Jumin supported it silently. 

“Let me see,” Jumin said, holding his hand out. 

“No, no, it’s just a small prick,” V protested. Yet he took one look at Jumin and opened his hand. Jumin took the hand, inspecting it wordlessly. In the center of his palm was a small drop of blood, that was it, though the drop grew and grew, and Jumin placed his hand over the wound, applying pressure. 

“Let’s go back inside,” Jumin requested, though it was less a request and more of a command. V followed his friend inside, to the bathroom, where Jumin let go of his hand long enough to grab the first aid kit. He wiped the wound off before drying it, applying a bandage, and pressing his hand down on it once more, trying to stop the bleeding.

“You’re careless,” he said, but there wasn’t a hint of aggravation or annoyance in his voice at all. Instead, it was only full of worry. “Please try to be careful around those damned things.” 

“You’re going to hurt their feelings!” V said, laughing. “They can hear you, you know.” 

“I doubt it.” 

Jumin led him to the living room, still holding his hand, and when V realized this, he flushed, trying to pull his hand away. Jumin swatted at him, keeping his hands pressed firmly on V’s. 

“Stop. I’m trying to stop the blood.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal, Jumin...” 

“You’re on a blood thinner. It could take hours.” 

V sighed and conceded defeat. It seemed he wouldn’t be able to persuade Jumin at all, so they sat on the sofa together. Jumin focused on his hands, not looking up at V. 

To stop the silence, V said: “How’s your girlfriend?” 

“Ayeong is doing well,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Why do you bring her up?” 

V shrugged, looking down at their hands. His chest hurt now, for some reason, though he wasn’t sure if it was because of something unnamed or not. “No reason. She seems nice though. I’m very happy you found someone you love, Jumin.” He smiled, though a little sadly, his eyes downcast. “I hope you both live long lives.” 

“Please don’t say such things.” Jumin pulled his hands away, checking to make sure the blood wasn’t everywhere. It wasn’t, though his hand was bloodied from before. “You will find someone that returns your affections soon enough, and hopefully this mess will be over.” 

“I don’t mind it, in a way... I’ve...” He wanted to hold Jumin’s hand again, looking at him with wondrous eyes. “I don’t think the person I like will ever love me back.” 

Jumin narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about? Have you found someone else?” 

“No...” he lied, then covered it up more with: “I just don’t think a dead woman can ever like you back.” 

“You’re going to make her weep in Heaven.” 

“I think she’d weep regardless,” he said, cryptic as usual. 

 

***

 

“We’re getting married.” 

V blinked, confused for a moment, before his eyes steeled themselves and he smiled. “Oh? Congratulations. I knew you would live together long.” 

V could hear the smile in his voice over the phone. “Thank you, Jihyun. ... How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay. I go to the doctor’s later today.” 

“Do you need help getting there?” Jumin asked. 

“No, no,” V answered. “I’ll be fine. I may be ill, but I can still move around.” 

“... Alright.” 

“Can I still be the best man?” He felt the beginning of a petal, and he coughed. “Will you let me?” 

“I would let no one else. Are you fine? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” V lied. “I have to go. Sorry.” 

And he hung up, coughing blood and petals all over his bed. He felt woozy, dizzy, and he collapsed to his knees, holding his stomach with both arms. His phone started ringing, but he ignored it, too busy literally vomiting out his feelings. 

 

***

 

The more V thought about it, the more it made sense. He didn’t know when he had started to love Jumin, but he supposed it didn’t matter much. He didn’t tell the doctors this—they blissfully went on thinking it was because he grieved his late fiancée’s death, but they couldn’t be any more wrong. 

The more he thought of it, too, the more pain he felt. None of the medicines worked anymore, and they told him that if they don’t operate soon, the cactus will pierce his heart, his lungs, killing him slowly and painfully. 

He refused. 

He didn’t want to lose these feelings for Jumin. He had long gotten over Rika amidst all this mess, focusing only on his current love, only on the one person he couldn’t have. 

He was also told that the spines of the cactus were breaking off, traveling through his bloodstream. At any given moment, he might have a heart attack or a stroke because of buildup, or it could damage any of his organs slowly, piercing them, ruining them. He wanted to be ruined. He wanted to be ruined because he wanted to ruin Jumin’s perfect relationship. 

But he didn’t. So that’s why he wanted to torture himself. He didn’t deserve Jumin, anyway. 

 

***

 

He stared at his plants. They had grown big, cultivated as if he were a true master of growing cacti. They reached for the sun, but not unhealthily, just reached, taller and taller every day. He had half a mind to start measuring them with the door frame. 

V’s eyes had been hurting lately, and so he stared, and stared, and stared, trying to see if he could get his vision to grow steady again, become unblurry. It didn’t work. The flowers, red on the outside and white on the inside, blurred together, and he gave up with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

The doctors had said that some of the spines from the cactus had detached and traveled through his system. They said that they most definitely were the reason his eyesight was getting worse, explained by these spines poking through the nerve of his eyes. 

He wondered, why him? But he could never get an answer out of God. 

He hadn’t told Jumin yet. 

He pressed his hand to his right eye, unable to see out of it entirely, and when he pulled it away, he stared at the blood, at the petal. 

 

***

 

The day of the wedding. V wasn’t sure if he would be able to attend, but in the end, he made himself go, pushed through the medicinal haze and general fatigue. He had made a promise to Jumin, when they were kids, he just remembered, that he’d be the best man at his wedding, back when they were talking about girls, back when they talked about getting married, back when V thought the stupid disease started. 

He stood with Jumin in the sacristy of the church. Jumin paced, burning a pattern into the floor at the rate he was going, fussing with the hems of his shirt once more, as he did. Jihyun just stood there, arms folded, curiously watching his friend. 

“Do you think this is right? Do you think we rushed it?” Jumin asked nervously. His voice shook, for the first time in his life. 

“Don’t start second guessing yourself,” V warned, pouting. “You’re only disappoint yourself and Ayeong. 

“But—” Jumin turned to him, stopping his pacing. 

“No buts, Jumin.” V reached out, placing both of his hands on Jumin’s shoulder. “If you really love her, then this is the right thing to do.” 

Jumin paused before rubbing his face with one hand. “... That’s true. God, do I love her.” 

V’s chest ached. 

“But... I don’t know if it’s right. Something is telling me is not.” 

V furrowed his brows, tilting his head, and Jumin grasped one of V’s hands in his own. 

“I don’t know what it is. But something is telling me I ran into this too fast. That I should’ve waited. Or something like that. But, God Above, I love her.” 

V’s expression softened. “Then it isn’t ‘too fast’. And you shouldn’t have waited.” But he sighed, continuing: “Why didn’t you bring this up to me before?” 

“You were so busy with the hospital, and I was so busy looking after you, that I never thought to bring it up.” 

“Your worries are just as important as I am, Jumin, perhaps even more so.” V glanced out the window, and a limousine, presumably the one with Ayeong in it, pulled up, disappearing into the driveway. “Do you think it’s too late to call it off?” 

Jumin groaned. “It’s definitely too late,” he muttered. “I... I want to do this though. I can do this with you by my side. Right? You’re my best friend, Jihyun.” 

“Of course. And you are mine!” V beamed widely, though it didn’t reach his eyes for whatever particular reason. Jumin didn’t notice. “So, please, I think she’s here. We should get going.” 

“... You’re right,” Jumin said, letting go of V’s hand. V wanted to hold his hand a little bit longer, but he  _ was _ right, in that they had to go soon. He’d never be able to hold his hand again, V thought fleetingly, after today. After today, he was damned to Hell. 

V followed his friend out to the altar, standing behind him. Behind him, even further, stood Zen, and then Yoosung. 

The wedding started. V cried lightly, wiping his eyes at multiple times during the service. 

Post-wedding, V gave his speech—wishing Jumin and Ayeong a happy and loving life. After that, he sat down, his stomach and chest hurting really badly. He ignored it, holding his head in his hands after awhile.

Jumin leaned over to him and whispered, “Are you alright? If you’d like, you can go home and rest. I can order a car.” 

V waved a hand, putting on the best smile he could. “No, no. I want to be here.” With you. “I want to be here, truly, and nowhere else.” 

Jumin didn’t look convinced. He sighed, placing his hand on his shoulder. “If you ever want to go home, let me know, and I’ll arrange it.” 

V nodded, touched. “Thank you, Jumin. Please, enjoy your reception.” 

And Jumin did. After the dinner, he stood up and performed his first dance with Ayeong, who was a beautiful, beautiful woman with long, flowing brown hair. V had a drink without anyone seeing. He needed that drink as he watched Jumin dancing with the love of his life, and not him. 

As he swallowed, he closed his eyes, stood up, fell to his knees. People gasped around him as he started throwing up blood again, just like the first time it happened, blood and petals, on his hands and knees, sullying a beautiful marble floor. 

He felt hands on his own, and when he looked up with unseeing eyes, tears threatening to spill over at any moment, Jumin was there, holding onto him tightly. He was saying something about calling an ambulance, but V waved a hand. 

“Jumin...” he gasped, covering his mouth. He didn’t want to get any more blood on any more of Jumin’s suits. “Jumin, please... Just... Hold me... Please...” 

Jumin looked confused for a second, then shook his head, eyes going wide. “No. What are you saying?” 

“Jumin, I love you.” V shut his eyes, leaning against his friend, wiping his tired, bleeding eyes against the suit, regrettably. “It’s you. I love you.” 

Jumin, stunned into silence, sat on the ground; people gathered around them, watching with wide eyes at the confession taking place. Jumin gathered his friend in his arms, holding him tight. 

“What are you saying?” 

“I love you, Jumin, and I thought I’d say it before I died.” His voice grew weaker and weaker, and he could feel the spines attacking his heart the more he spoke. “I love you,” he repeated. “I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. Please just hold me... And you can live a long life with your wife.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jumin asked after a moment, hand going to V’s hair, curling in the teal locks, voice quiet. “Why didn’t you...” 

V realized Jumin was crying. God, he really fucked up this wedding, didn’t he? He made a mess of everything. He ruined the wedding. He ruined the happiest moment of Jumin’s life by  _ dying _ . He was a failure, a failure, a failure failure failure. 

He kept his eyes shut, breath ragged. People were whispering, now, but they felt so far away. He felt another pair of hands on his shoulders—Ayeong? and he desperately wanted to brush them away, but he couldn’t bring himself to. 

No, he found, those hands weren’t Ayeong’s, but a paramedic’s, threatening to pull him away from Jumin. He held on harder, as hard as he could, but in the end, Jumin let go too, and V was pulled away. 

“Sto...Stop... Please... Let me... just die...” he called out weakly, barely above a whisper, as he was put on the gurney and pushed inside the ambulance. 

Jumin didn’t follow. 

He wished he had. He wished he had, but he coughed, and coughed, and coughed his heart out, until he could cough no longer, until all his strength was sapped, and he had lost too much blood, and darkness overtook him. 


End file.
